exploring the duality

Darkness spreads tentacles of black fire across my plane of vision once again. It has taken over my essence. My duality, usually dominated by lightness and joy, sighs in resignation and allows the inky blackness it's dominion for a time. Better to accept this part of my self than to fight it. For the battle would be long and bloody with no winner and the same outcome as acceptance.

I pace in my mind like a caged beast in a zoo or a freak show. I am restless. She wants to be freed once again. Not the creature of lightness and joy that usually exists, but the creature of night and darkness; of all things macabre.

She revels in freedom of sexuality, sensuality, torture, play. She aches to feel the cold, hard kiss of metal on skin, the sharp sting of leather. She aches to smell plastic, rubber, leather; to hear the crack of a whip. Lips, breath, teeth, biting, sucking, tongues, tasting. Eyes open, eyes closed. Crimson clouds her vision and she smiles. Chained, shackled, blindfolded. Hands both rough and gentle. The pressure of fingernails scraping down a back, red welts rising. A caress of metal, biting into skin. Sweat rising, beads slowly trickling down.

Once, she took it to the limit of what she could mentally take. She scared herself. Not for what she had done, never that. The fear was that she had taken it to a level where her partner was afraid, and yet still she wanted more. The fear was in knowing that he was as experienced as he was, but had never taken it that far. And she wanted more. For days afterwards, she was aching, bruised black, and sore. And she liked it and she wanted more. The wanting more scared her to the point that she retreated for a long time. How twisted does one mind have to be to want to be hurt. Now she wants out again, she wants more.

Pain slut, whore. She struggles within the body that is shared with the other. She is the girl with no morals. And yet I, the other, the joyful one, accept her while fighting her. We do share a body, after all.

And so, as the crimson rises and the darkness pervades my soul, so does the light. As she craves pain, I crave a light and gentle touch. Within me exists the duality. In my mind, the voices whisper, hurt me, be kind to me, hurt me, cause no pain. I am scarred, I am broken, I am whole, the pieces put back together haphazardly with Elmer's white glue and duct tape. Hurt me, love me. Accept me, love me. Adore me. Hurt me. Love me.